A DULL TIRED ache throbbed on the top of her skull. Rubbing her eyes, the enchantress browsed her scrolls a second time. Yes, the words were set up in the right order, everything should progress organically as she had planned. But…
She stretched her stiff arms, rotating her neck to work out the kinks. That’s all the spell turned into: words. Endless, complex, overly saturated words. It wasn’t about imagining what could happen, or letting a new story take seed. No, it was about imprinting the words she already knew. It was fact confirmation, not storytelling.
Groaning, she massaged her temples. And that, really, had always been the problem.
Written: 30 April 2016
Inspired: I feel this self-explanatory.